


teenage dream

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band), NewS (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:08:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Senpai finally noticed him.





	teenage dream

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written with luna_truths.

“It sure was nice seeing Yamashita-senpai again, wasn’t it?” Tamamori says dreamily as he stretches on the set of _HamaKisu Learning_ , making his already too-short blazer ride up even more. “I wish we could work together more often.”

“You’re such a fanboy,” Kitayama grumbles.

Fujigaya lifts his head from his phone. “You almost sound jealous.”

“He totally sounds jealous,” Tamamori adds.

Kitayama sighs. “I am not jealous.”

“You are jealous,” Fujigaya says pointedly, “because we got to touch him and you didn’t.”

“That is not even—” Kitayama cuts himself off when he hears cackling and momentarily wonders if anyone would notice if their group was missing its S and 2. “Don’t you all have your own business to worry about?”

“Didn’t you and Yamashita-senpai go to high school together?” Miyata asks conversationally.

“Yeah, but they weren’t close,” Nikaido answers for him.

“What, do you have all of his interviews memorized?” Yokoo taunts Nikaido. “Perhaps we should be calling _you_ a fanboy.”

Nikaido just shrugs. “I remember things.”

“Assuming it’s all true,” Kitayama says, and six heads swivel towards him. “Oh, come on, you all totally lie in your interviews, too.”

“Yeah, but,” Yokoo says slowly, “why would you need to lie about your relationship with Yamashita-senpai in high school?”

“You say that like it’s an actual relationship,” Senga inputs.

Kitayama says nothing, and now the twelve eyes on him are widening. “It wasn’t even like that! I didn’t lie about not being close to him. I just kind of…admired him, is all.”

“Who the hell doesn’t?” Fujigaya asks. “He’s like the perfect idol.”

“Wait…” Nikaido’s face breaks into a smirk, and Kitayama is not surprised one bit that this one was the first to put it together. “You totally had a crush on him, didn’t you?!”

“Like you didn’t have high school crushes,” Kitayama snaps back. “Or you would have if you had actually gone to high school.”

Nikaido sticks his tongue out, but Senga’s gaping and Fujigaya’s grin is scary as he asks, “Did senpai not notice you?”

With nothing closeby to throw at Fujigaya, he opts for fighting fire with fire. “I don’t think you want to play the high school shame game, Fujigaya. I _knew_ you back then.”

“And?” Fujigaya leans back in his chair, balancing it on two legs and looking way too smug for someone who was about to get his dirty teenage secrets aired in front of everyone.

Now Kitayama’s the smug one. “At least I haven’t _been in a drama_ with the senpai I used to fantasize about.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes. “Please. Straight men fantasize about Kimura-senpai.”

“That’s actually true,” Yokoo cosigns.

“You fantasized about Yamashita-senpai?” Tamamori asks, looking mildly interested. “That is so cute.”

“It’s not cute,” Kitayama grumbles. “I hate you all.”

“I guess senpai never noticed him,” Fujigaya hisses in a stage-whisper, and Kitayama leans over to shove him enough for his chair to fall back. It’s funny until Fujigaya grabs onto Kitayama’s arm and they both crash to the floor, Kitayama ending up halfway on top of him with his face in Fujigaya’s hair. They push at each other in a desperate attempt to put space between them, which naturally turns into a wrestling match.

They both freeze when they hear a _click_. “Stop fighting or I’m sending this to _Duet_ ,” Yokoo says calmly, shaking his phone in one hand.

Both Kitayama and Fujigaya rush to break apart and stand up like normal people.

“But it’s not like you couldn’t have been friends with him back then,” Senga says gently, plopping next to Kitayama and fixing his hair that had gotten mussed in the scuffle. “You already had something in common with him by going to the same high school.”

“There wasn’t room for me in his group of friends,” Kitayama replies, ignoring the sudden flood of sadness that accompanies the memory. It was ten years ago, for fuck’s sake. “Akanishi-senpai was always around, even though he was older. I actually thought they had a thing back then.”

“Who hasn’t had a thing with Akanishi-senpai?” Fujigaya scoffs. “Fangirl hearts weren’t the only ones that broke when he got married.”

“I think he ranked number one at hooking up with other Johnny’s,” Yokoo says. “There was a ranking done a few years ago.”

“Seriously?” Nikaido asks, making a face. “Does he have a beer-flavored dick or something?”

“No,” Fujigaya and Kitayama say in unison, then side-eye each other.

“What’s stopping you from being friends now?” Miyata asks Kitayama. “He can’t be that busy. Call him and ask him out for drinks.”

“Get him nice and liquored up,” Fujigaya adds with a wink, jumping out of the way before Kitayama’s elbow can jab into his ribs.

“You can’t just call someone and ask him out for drinks,” Kitayama says. “Maybe _you_ can, but I’m not as sleazy as you.”

“That is not sleazy,” Fujigaya argues. “Sleazy is not bothering with drinks first.”

“Are you free next Thursday?” Tamamori asks suddenly, earning everyone’s attention as he scrolls through his phone. “Kitamitsu.”

“Yeah,” Kitayama answers. “Why?”

“That’s the only time Yamashita-senpai isn’t busy,” Tamamori explains, then looks up from his phone. “I got tired of listening to you pine and texted him for you.”

“I am not _pining_ —” Kitayama starts, but it’s a lost cause when the others are already cheering on Tamamori for being proactive. “What did you even say to him?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Tamamori says quickly, hiding his phone when Miyata tries to look over his shoulder. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“I really hate you all,” Kitayama mutters, but can’t help the way his heart beats a little faster with the realization. _He_ was going to be hanging out with Yamashita Tomohisa. _Alone_.

“Sure you do,” Senga chimes in and Kitayama glares.

Kitayama jumps when there’s a hand on his shoulder, he turns and cringes at Fujigaya’s closeness. “Wha—”

“If you want to know how to impress Yamashita-senpai,” he starts, the grin on his face widening. “I can help you out.”

Kitayama feels like a highschool girl. He has gone as far as marking Thursday on his calendar and circling it in bright red marker, he’d unconsciously drawn hearts around it. He knows that if the other guys saw this, they would never let him live it down and he just isn’t ready to deal with that. Fujigaya continues to give him knowing looks, complete with an eyebrow waggle and inappropriate hand gestures everytime they see each other. He plays it off, giving Fujigaya a good shove and snorting at the yelp he gets in return.

Kitayama thinks that spending time with Yamapi shouldn’t be any different than hanging out with someone, say Fujigaya. Only it _is_ different. Kitayama finds himself hesitating before finally knocking on the door, half hoping that Yamapi wasn’t even here.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Yamapi grins, and Kitayama hates the way his heart practically stops in his chest.

“Yes I am,” Kitayama smiles nervously in return, happy that he managed not to stutter. “Are you ready to go?”

Kitayama follows Yamapi with his eyes as the other pats himself down. “I feel like I’m forgetting something,” he says while shutting his door. “Oh well, if it’s important I’ll remember it before it’s too late.”

Yamapi is fun to hang out with; he’s not as quiet when there’s a drink in his hand and music in the background. The atmosphere isn’t as awkward as he had expected, it’s quiet and calm. Kitayama is proud of himself for not getting extremely worked up and doing something embarrassing (like confessing here in the bar). They both talk about work and laugh together about Fujigaya being a senpai whore. Kitayama is actually having a really good time.

“You know that girl by the bar has been eyeing you since we sat down,” Yamapi laughs at Kitayama’s startled face. “Go dance with her.”

Kitayama shrugs, downing what was left of his drink before trudging up to the bar. He can feel Yamapi eyes on his back, burning through him and making him shiver. The girl agrees to dance with him, of course. He still feels Yamapi’s eyes on him, even when he’s in the middle of the dance floor with a soft warm body pressed against his. When Kitayama looks over her shoulder, he meets Yamapi’s dark gaze from across the bar. It has him pulling her closer, moving her hips against his faster.

He isn’t sure how long they stayed at the bar, he just knows that when he and Yamapi finally left he was feeling lighter on his feet and his face was hot. They manage to get a taxi back to Yamapi’s apartment, and Kitayama sneaks glances at Yamapi from the corner of his eye. It’s silent, but it’s not an unpleasant silence. Kitayama smiles, happy with the night’s events. Even if it only resulted in the two of them drinking together and sharing a taxi home.

“Oh, I don’t have my keys,” Yamapi says with a loud sigh. “I guess that’s what the important thing was.”

“Don’t you keep a spare outside your door somewhere?” Kitayama asks, trying not to laugh at the disgruntled and slightly embarrassed look on Yamapi’s face.

“I guess I can call Ryo-chan, or a locksmith,” he murmurs and pulls out his phone.

Kitayama laughs quietly; at least he doesn’t feel so stupid now. He’s locked himself out of his own apartment plenty of times, for once he knows what it’s like to not be on the receiving end of someone’s laughter.

“Oh hey Ryo-chan its—” Yamapi pauses. “Why are you yelling at me? It’s not my fault you answer your phone during sex—” Kitayama snorts loudly. “I locked myself out, can you come bring me my spare ke—hello? Ryo-chan?”

“Um,” Kitayama starts.

“That bastard hung up on me. Now how am I going to get inside my apartment?” Yamapi asks, voice sad.

“You can stay at my place tonight!” Kitayama says quickly, before his eyes widen and he throws a hand over his mouth.

“That would be great, actually,” Yamapi replies. “Thanks, man.”

“Uh. No problem.”

Yamapi calls another cab, this time to Kitayama’s place. It’s not that far, but it’s long enough that Kitayama works himself up into quite a frenzy by the time they pull up in front of his building. He’s not nearly drunk enough to be casual about this, but his hands are oddly calm as he unlocks his front door under Yamapi’s intense stare. For someone who is normally so oblivious, he sure locks his attention on Kitayama.

“I have a spare futon if you don’t want the couch,” Kitayama says as he leads the way inside, voice steadier than he feels. “A couple, actually. My brats like to crash here all the time because they still live with their parents.”

Yamapi’s laugh is deep. “I remember those days. You’re a good leader.”

The praise spreads throughout Kitayama’s body like wildfire, though it’s less pride and more of something else as Yamapi hangs up his coat and unlaces his boots. Kitayama catches a glimpse of Yamapi’s backside in jeans and swallows hard, barely averting his eyes before Yamapi stands back up. He may need a shower before bed, a cold one.

“Are you tired?” Yamapi asks suddenly, and Kitayama shrugs because that’s like asking if he’s breathing. “To thank you for letting me stay here, let me treat you to some take-out.”

Like Kitayama would turn that down. “Thank you, senpai.”

“Enough with the ‘senpai’ shit,” Yamapi says, leaning to the side to nudge Kitayama with his elbow. “That’s only cute with juniors or in bed. We’re the same age, anyway.”

Kitayama blinks. “Okay…Yamashita-kun.”

“Tomo,” Yamapi tells him. “Please.”

“Tomo-kun,” Kitayama tries, wrapping his tongue around the syllables and liking the way it feels.

Yamapi seems to accept that and pulls out his phone to call for delivery. They find a movie on cable and settle under the kotatsu Kitayama had gotten for Christmas from the kouhai (though he suspects it was more for them to use when they crash here). Yamapi reluctantly gets up when the doorbell rings, but the food is good for late night cravings and Kitayama settles back against his couch, full and warm and entirely content.

“How do you look exactly the same as when we were in school?” Yamapi asks suddenly, and Kitayama turns to find the other man watching him instead of the movie.

“I’m not sure how to take that,” Kitayama answers. “I know I’m short, but— ”

“That’s not what I mean,” Yamapi says, though it’s not backpedaling at all. “You look so young still. It brings back memories of my youth…that is, you make me feel young, too.”

Kitayama smiles and Yamapi’s eyes light up. “We’re not even that old.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you.” Yamapi sighs and leans back next to Kitayama. “It’s refreshing to be reminded of those days.”

“We didn’t really do anything together back then, though,” Kitayama says. “You were on a much higher level than me socially.”

“I still saw you,” Yamapi says, and Kitayama’s head quickly turns to look at him. “I always saw you, even in the back.”

Kitayama is still processing those words when a warm hand cups his jaw and soft lips press against his. He’s so shocked that he can’t even gasp, just respond the way he wants to—the way he’s always wanted to—by sliding his arms around Yamapi’s neck and curling fingers into the damp strands of hair at his nape. A low noise sounds from Yamapi’s throat and his lips move, but just enough to cover more of Kitayama’s own and Kitayama rushes to keep up, mind spinning with a mixture of Yamapi’s cologne and the tingles he feels all over his body.

“Tomo,” he breathes, when they finally part to catch their breath.

“Yeah?”

Kitayama shivers at Yamapi’s low raspy voice. In the next second, Yamapi’s claiming his mouth again and there are warm hands slipping under his shirt, too-hot fingers moving against his skin.

Kitayama gasps into Yamapi’s mouth when he feels a palm pressed against his stomach. He arches against Yamapi, trying in vain to get him to lower his hand. Kitayama groans when Yamapi moves to touch him lower, body aching for Yamapi’s touch. Kitayama can feel Yamapi hard against his thigh, and it turns him on even more, knowing that it’s because of _him_.

When Yamapi pulls away from his mouth, Kitayama lets out a low whine. He leans up to try and capture Yamapi’s mouth again. He sighs when Yamapi leans back, just out of his reach.

“Patience, kouhai.” Yamapi smirks before his fingers work on the fastenings of Kitayama’s jeans.

Kitayama glares at being called ‘kouhai’ again, but his complaints die on his tongue as Yamapi swiftly takes him in hand. He groans when Yamapi slowly begins to stroke his length; his head falls back and he has to fight to keep his eyes open.

“What do you want, Kitamitsu?” Yamapi purrs, hand moving a bit faster.

Kitayama’s eyes are drawn to Yamapi’s mouth, wanting more than anything to see those lips stretched around his cock. Yamapi seems to guess what Kitayama wants, he smirks before swiping his tongue across his lower lip. Kitayama groans at the action, cock twitching in Yamapi’s hand.

“Never mind. I know just what you want.” Yamapi grins, and Kitayama whines when Yamapi’s hand leaves his cock.

Yamapi slides down Kitayama’s body, pulling at Kitayama’s jeans until they’re down around his thighs. Kitayama throws his head back, having to bring a hand up and bite down on his knuckles to keep from screaming. Yamapi’s mouth is around him then, wet and hot, and Kitayama’s mind is spinning. All he wants to do is thrust up and into his mouth, to pull his hair and force his cock as far down Yamapi’s throat as he can.

“Ah, oh fuck— ” Kitayama moans, hips rocking up as Yamapi sucks him in and out.

Kitayama looks down and gasps at what he sees. Yamapi’s dark eyes are staring back at him, lips stretched around his cock and Kitayama has to fight not to come right then. Kitayama groans when Yamapi pulls back enough to lick the head of his cock before taking him back into his mouth.

He can’t stop himself, fingers tangling in Yamapi’s hair and pulling. Yamapi’s resulting moan has Kitayama crying out and rocking his hips up faster, chasing the release that’s just out of his reach. Yamapi’s fingers tighten against his hips, and Kitayama moans as Yamapi bobs his head faster.

“Stop I’m gonna—” Kitayama gasps and shudders as his orgasm hits him, eyes rolling into the back of his head as Yamapi continues to suck him in and out, swallowing everything.

“You don’t think it’ll end here, do you?” Yamapi asks, hovering over Kitayama.

Kitayama’s still catching his breath when Yamapi covers his body, stretching out on top of him and pressing him into the floor. Their mouths collide once more and Kitayama tastes himself on Yamapi’s tongue, hands pulling at Yamapi’s clothes in no sensible direction except _off._

They break apart long enough to pull their shirts over their head, and Kitayama’s hands linger on Yamapi’s belt as his brain catches up with him.

“What?” Yamapi asks, more curious than irritated. His mouth is poutier than usual, lips red and glossy from their heated kissing, and his eyes are a much darker shade of brown.

Kitayama shakes his head and laughs. “It’s just…I’m about to live out my high school fantasy.”

“Yeah?” Yamapi asks, smiling a little as he gently tugs Kitayama’s pants and boxers the rest of the way down. “I probably look much better now.”

“Your hair is all one color now,” Kitayama says, and Yamapi rolls his eyes and kisses him again. This one is deeper, promising, and Kitayama’s hands move on their own to remove the rest of Yamapi’s clothes.

It should be much colder than it is, even under the kotatsu, but Kitayama feels like he’s burning alive under Yamapi’s warm body, strong hands, and eager mouth. It’s everything and nothing like he’d imagined it would be, so much _more_ than just a fantasy with a senpai because he knows Yamapi and has worked with him for ten years, if just in the shadows.

Those hands squeeze the cheeks of his ass and Kitayama arches, so ready for more, hoping his groan conveys this so they don’t have to stop kissing to speak. He doesn’t know where Yamapi got lube and doesn’t actually care, just appreciates that his fingers are slick as they slowly push Kitayama’s thighs apart for him.

Despite all his best efforts, Kitayama has to tear his mouth away to arch when Yamapi slips a finger inside him. It’s gentle but not too gentle, fast but not too fast, just the right combination of force and speed to have Kitayama’s body play right to his whims—or just because it’s Yamapi.

“Oh fuck,” Kitayama gasps when Yamapi pushes in another finger and grazes his prostate, still sensitive from his orgasm but not uncomfortably so. Yamapi seems to sense this and rubs it lightly, dark eyes on Kitayama as the latter jerks beneath him and clutches onto his arms.

“This is where you can start calling me senpai again,” Yamapi whispers, punctuating his words with a third finger, and Kitayama’s body is pushing back against them on his own.

“Fuck me, senpai,” Kitayama says, deeper and more authoritative than he’d intended, making Yamapi raise his eyebrows. “Fuck me into the floor.”

Yamapi pulls his fingers away and Kitayama feels terribly empty. His body is aching to feel something inside of him, something that only Yamapi can give him. He can hear the crinkle of the foil wrapper, and then Yamapi is hovering over him once more. Kitayama moans loudly when Yamapi pushes into him; if he could think straight, he’d be worried that his neighbors might call the police. He can’t really care about anything right now, just Yamapi and the way he feels.

Yamapi grunts, slowly rocking his hips into Kitayama. “Tell me how good this feels.”

Kitayama gasps, fingers tight against Yamapi’s shoulders as he pushes back against Yamapi’s hips. “You feel so good inside me,” he has to bite his lip to keep from screaming when Yamapi thrusts into him harder, grazing his prostate again and sending tingles all over his body. “Fuck me harder, senpai, I want you to fuck me so hard that I can’t walk.”

Yamapi lets out a low growl that has Kitayama arching up and rocking back faster, he tightens his legs around Yamapi’s waist in an attempt to bring him in deeper. Yamapi’s fingers curl into his hair and pull as he thrusts forward, grunting into Kitayama’s neck.

“Keep talking or I’ll stop,” he murmurs, slowing his thrusts and causing Kitayama to whine.

“Mm, senpai, just like that,” Kitayama goes on, the words falling from his mouth as easy as breathing. “Fuck, Tomo, so good.”

Yamapi makes a noise of approval that turns into a sharp moan as he bottoms out inside Kitayama over and over again. Kitayama’s fingers twist in the short hair along the back of Yamapi’s neck, which is becoming damp from his efforts, and Yamapi shivers against him, inside him.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Kitayama goes on, his voice getting lower with each breath. “I’ve wanted this for so long, fuck, it’s better than I ever dreamed.”

Strong arms wrap tightly around him, almost so tightly that he can’t move, but Yamapi’s still hitting him deep enough to have him jerk and tighten with each thrust. He can tell that Yamapi’s getting close, the body on top of him starting to shake and falter in his rhythm, and all Kitayama can do is arch into it.

“Come for me, senpai,” Kitayama whispers, and Yamapi groans into his chest. “Come _into_ me.”

He feels Yamapi’s cock pulse inside him, accompanied by a soft whisper of his first name as Yamapi shivers out his orgasm. Everything stops moving so suddenly that it takes Kitayama’s body a second to catch up, his legs slowly lowered to the floor by no power of his own as Yamapi pulls out and gently rubs his thighs.

“You’re not going to fall asleep?” Yamapi asks with a quiet laugh. “I know I could fall asleep right now. That was exhausting.”

“I’m afraid that if I do,” Kitayama starts, thigh twitching when Yamapi’s fingers glide across the skin, “that I’ll wake up and this will have all been a dream.”

“Well I can always remind you,” Yamapi grins, squeezing Kitayama’s thigh. “Tomorrow after breakfast though, I don’t think I can go again tonight. However, I can still do this.”

Kitayama blinks and then there are lips pressed against his; instinctively his fingers tighten in Yamapi’s damp hair. He parts his lips to deepen the kiss, tongue sliding against Yamapi’s. Kitayama wraps a leg around Yamapi’s waist, tugging gently at his hair. Yamapi hums into the kiss, fingers digging into Kitayama’s side. His cock twitches when Yamapi’s fingers slide down to his knee. He whines when Yamapi pulls back, effectively breaking their kiss.

“ _Tomorrow_.” Yamapi says again, flashing Kitayama a bright smile. “I think we should take a shower now.”

Kitayama thinks a shower sounds like a great idea, because who wouldn’t want to see a wet and naked Yamapi? Kitayama has never before run to his bathroom so fast. Yamapi chuckles from somewhere behind him, Kitayama doesn’t care. His limbs are sore, and the hot water will do good to loosen him up.

“I hope this means you’ll let me sleep in your bed,” Yamapi murmurs as Kitayama begins to wash his hair.

Kitayama laughs.


End file.
